


Remember the Way It Felt

by Alice_h



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Amnesia, Childhood Memories, F/F, Ghost Catra, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Just a whole bunch of extra trauma, Living Adora, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29845983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_h/pseuds/Alice_h
Summary: All Adora can remember before the day she woke up in an unfamiliar place four years ago is one word: Catra. Who or what that is, she doesn't know.When she finds out about an abandoned house that featured in the past she has forgotten, she feels as though she's left something behind there and goes to discover the truth.A ghost Catra and living Adora fic.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	Remember the Way It Felt

**Author's Note:**

> A "Write this in your style challenge" fic, based on this work by hopelessgemini (aka Tumblr's nonbinarychaoticstupid)  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762556/chapters/73255305 . Apparently my style is longer and more traumatic :D
> 
> I'm sure it goes without saying from the tags that Catra is dead in this. We do find out how, but it's not graphic. Please also be warned that their "guardian" (Shadow Weaver in all but name) is an alcoholic who gets violent towards them, although again, nothing is particularly focused on.

The sum total of Adora’s childhood memories came down to one word: Catra. She didn’t even know who or what Catra is, but the word has stuck in her mind from the day she woke up in Glimmer’s house without any recollection of how she had got there. According to Glimmer, she and Bow had found a bloodstained Adora wandering through the street, lost and confused, but that time, like the rest of her childhood, is a blank.

Glimmer’s mother, Angella, knew the story. She had been by Adora’s side through confusingly vague doctors appointments and police interviews, but she would never say a word about what she’d been told in those hushed conversations just out of Adora’s earshot. _There’s a reason your mind doesn’t remember anything, Adora,_ she always said, and she was probably right, but the void that losing fifteen years of your life leaves only gets bigger with time. Adora had begged and pleaded, but Angella had never given in, she had shut down any line of conversation that might lead anywhere towards her past. Until yesterday, when Angella was caught off guard and given Adora two new words from her childhood: Garnet House.

That’s the place she was stood outside of now, having climbed through a large hole in the metal fencing that surrounded the building, if one could call this charred ruin a building. It was still standing, still recognisable as a large, remote manor house from the outside if you ignored the boarded-up windows, soot-blackened stone walls and the remains of the roof exposing the interior to the elements. The garden where Adora stood was overgrown, strewn with discarded beer-cans and broken glass, but in the fraction of a second that her eyes were shut when she blinked, she swore she could see a neatly mown lawn lined with flowerbeds and birds pecking at feeders.

She had to go in. There would be no point in turning back now, nothing she could gain by coming so close to unravelling the mystery of her past and giving up – she might never get another chance. Angella was already worried about her, and if she knew Adora had been here, she’d probably lock her in her bedroom for good. Besides, there was something about the place that was drawing her in which had nothing to do with the desire to find out what happened to her. She had an overwhelming sense that she had left something behind here, something important that she needed to come back for.

It was trivially easy to break in – someone had already beaten her to it before, it seemed. The front door had been boarded over, but a few layers of plywood had been no match for someone’s foot, the print of their shoe still visible on the shattered remains that lay on the floor. Adora found herself inside a vast hallway, the fire damage more evident here than outside with burnt wood and debris littering the ground in every direction. Directly in front of her were the remains of a staircase, now nothing more than a few blackened wood planks teetering from the edge of a landing up above.

“Adora?”

A whispered voice made her jump, her head jerking around to see who had spoken, who was there with her in this supposedly abandoned place. She worried for a moment that she had been followed from home, but it wasn’t Glimmer’s voice she heard. It wasn’t _un_ familiar either.

“Adora?”

“Catra?” the word left her mouth before she’d even thought about it. Catra was a _person?_ But what was she doing here at the same time as Adora? Who was she? _Where_ was she? And why did Adora know her name on reflex? Adora could almost form the memory, she was so close to remembering this person, this girl, this… friend? She closed her eyes, shut them tightly, and forced her brain to think. _Catra, Catra, Catra, Catra…_ But it was like a breath she couldn’t quite catch; the memory a blur that she just couldn’t form into a picture.

She screamed when she opened her eyes again. It was in her periphery for just a moment, but she saw it – a swish of deep brown hair that glinted in the shafts of light coming through the gaps in the wood covering the windows. Adora turned to follow it, but as suddenly as it appeared, so too had it vanished. There was someone here with her, she swore she could _feel_ them close by, but the hallway was deserted wherever she looked.

“You’re back, Adora. I knew you would be,” the voice came again, and she was certain it was from just beside her. All she saw there, however, was dusty air that hadn’t been disturbed for years.

“Who are you? Where are you?” Adora was beginning to panic now, she hated people trying to sneak up on her. She assumed it was something ingrained in her from the years she had lost, but people surprising her or startling her usually resulted in an involuntary punch or an elbow thrust in the vague direction of the unfortunate victim. Glimmer had learnt the hard way to announce her presence a little more gently than with others.

A floorboard creaked to her left, but still there was nothing but a voice, “It’s just me, it’s Catra.”

Catra. Her only memory of her previous life was nothing more than this word, and Adora was certain that she could remember more if she tried now. Hearing _that_ name in _that_ voice brought so many feelings to the surface – she felt love, overwhelming love, she felt happiness, she felt safety…

She felt guilt.

Adora’s gaze fell to the floor and she traced the outline of a piece of rubble with her eyes to focus her thoughts. What reason did she have to be guilty? Her memories fought to free the restraint her own mind had put on them, echoes of the past that were starting to become louder and louder, yet she still could not decipher their words.

“Aargh! Why can’t I remember you?!” she yelled, throwing her head back in disappointed anger. And as she did, two eyes flashed across her vision, one yellow, one blue. Her mind immediately associated them with the name – those were Catra’s eyes, she was sure of it. It was the first moment of clarity she had found in a long time, and fuelled her hunger to discover more.

“Do you want to remember?” the voice spoke back, offering her a tantalising opportunity to fill in the blanks of her past.

Adora had never felt more certain, “Yes. I do.”

“Then let me show you.”

A cold draft seemed to envelope Adora, though she couldn’t tell where it had come from; it wasn’t even a windy day when she had made the walk up the hill to where the remains of the house stood. But the chill soon turned to warmth, almost like somebody was embracing her, and she thought, just for a moment, that there was an arm draped around her.

“Look, Adora,” Catra whispered in her ear.

The hallway remained static, exactly the same as it had been from the moment she had arrived, “At what?”

“No, look properly. You know what this place is.”

Look properly? Wasn’t that what she was doing? Adora tried staring into the corners of the room, into the piled up charred beams and shreds of singed flowery wallpaper, but that was all she saw. Ruins of a life she had no knowledge of. There was nothing _to_ see, certainly nothing that sparked any memories.

“I don’t see anything!” she said angrily, pressing her hand to her eyes to relieve the strain of her apparent failure to pick out what Catra was telling her to look at.

But when she looked up again, everything had changed. Adora was no longer looking at the destroyed remnants of a remote, deserted house, but a home, beautifully decorated and alive. A plush cream carpet had replaced the bare floorboards under her feet; the windows now let sunlight refract rainbows onto the walls and brighten the once-dark corners. It felt like a home, and more than that, it felt like _her_ home.

“How is this...?” Adora stood open-mouthed, unable to reconcile what she was now seeing with the building she had walked into.

“Shhh...” Catra’s voice silenced her, “Just watch.”

A faint sound of laughter pricked Adora’s ear, and it quickly grew louder and closer. She startled slightly as a door opened, and two young children, maybe 5 or 6 years old, sprinted through the hallway, coming to a stop in front of her. They looked so familiar to her as well, the dark-haired one especially – was this a friend? A sister? A daughter she never knew she had? She didn’t even know if this was real, it could be some kind of hallucination that her tortured mind was conjuring to block out the reality of where she was.

“I told you I was faster!” the blonde girl giggled, sticking her tongue out in a defiant, but still friendly manner.

“You cheated, Adora!”

_Adora?_ This was...her?

“No _you_ cheated, Catra! And you still lost. I’m gonna beat you back there too.”

The two girls fell into uncontrollable fits of laughter, chasing each other back around the hallway and through the door they had come through. Adora was struck by how carefree and happy they had seemed, how perfect this life was, and she couldn’t understand how she would ever want to – or _need_ to – forget something as idyllic as this.

“Is this real?” she asked quietly, certain that Catra – wherever she was hiding – could hear her.

“This happened, Adora. It’s a memory.”

Adora again tried to follow the voice, but found nothing, “Why wouldn’t I remember this? Angella always said that something bad happened and that’s why I couldn’t remember anything, but this... This isn’t bad.”

“I wanted to show you the happy times, Adora. But they weren’t all happy,” a click took Adora’s attention to her left in time to see a door opening, seemingly by itself. Beyond it, a foreboding darkness.

Though Catra said nothing more, it was clearly an invitation to head into the room to see something different, a memory that wasn’t so warm. She was in two minds about doing so; Angella had been extremely strict about keeping Adora away from anything that might bring up her past, so she might be about to face something that could hurt her all over again. But the void that was her own history had always troubled her, and if something traumatic had happened, she had a right to know. She _needed_ to know.

Night had somehow fallen when she stepped in, finding a living room with curtains drawn and the yellow glow of incandescent light bulbs from lamps lighting patches of the ceiling, casting shadows on other areas. A television flickered some old detective drama quietly in the corner, watched by a middle-aged woman slumped in a chair gulping from a wine glass. Immediately upon seeing her, a flash of fear sparked through Adora’s body, though she couldn’t say why. She didn’t recognise the woman, but her subconscious jumped straight to terror at the mere sight of her.

“Who is that?”

There was no answer from Catra, but the memory – if that’s what it really was – began to play out and Adora knew she’d find out before long. An older girl, now maybe 12, phased through her body, and stood in the centre of the room. She could see from the face, the deep blue eyes, and the blonde hair tied back into a ponytail that this was herself. A younger version, certainly, but most definitely her.

“Why’re you dis... disturbing me?” the older woman slurred, brushing a strand of jet black hair away from her eye, “This is _my_ t... My time.”

The younger Adora put a hand on her hip and stared disapprovingly, “You were horrible to Catra earlier, I want you to stop.”

“Stop?” the woman downed a quarter of her glass in one go, placing it next to the bottle on the small table beside her, “She’s dishresh... Dis... Disrespectful. Leave me alone.”

“No! You need to stop being so nasty.”

“I don’t need to DO SHIT!” the woman’s voice raised, and there was a definite undercurrent of anger, “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Her screamed words were punctuated by her picking up the wine glass and launching it at Adora, who managed to duck out of the way in time to avoid the missile. The glass smashed against the wall, fragments showering the floor and the remnants of its contents painting over the patterned wallpaper with a deep red splatter.

“This was the bad thing that happened?” Adora questioned, watching her younger self run scared from the room. It was hardly a happy memory, but surely wouldn’t have been enough to make her need to block out an entire childhood.

Catra’s voice again surprised Adora, seeming to come from the empty space in front of her. So close by, yet distant at the same time, “It was like this every day, more or less. You always tried to protect me from her, but you could only do so much. That’s it. Go home, Adora, you got what you came for.”

She wasn’t sure she had, though. These memories, however Catra had managed to get her to relive them, didn’t add up for her. All she knew was that she and Catra must have grown up together, under the care of an alcoholic woman who was horrible to them both – that didn’t follow on to being found in the middle of a street in a trance-like state. Something else happened, and Catra seemed to know everything – not just about the past, but also that Adora would just happen to be here today. She had only found out about the existence of this house _yesterday_ ; it wasn’t possible for this to be mere coincidence.

“Show yourself! Why are you here? Why did you come here today?” Adora didn’t mean to shout, but her confusion was driving an irritation inside. She just wanted Catra to explain what was going on, why she was hiding and why she had seemingly come to the same place at the same time just to taunt her with snippets of memory, “Have you been following me, is that it? What are you doing here?”

Catra, by contrast, was still as calm as she had been the whole time, “Adora... I never left this place.”

“What do you mean you never left? This house is a ruin – nobody has lived here in years! You’re lying!”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are! It’s not possible for anyone to live in a burnt-out house like this, it’s not...” a piece of the puzzle slotted into place as she spoke, taking Adora’s voice from her, “ _Oh._ ”

Nobody _was_ living here, and she finally began to understand. Catra had never been able to leave, never had the chance to live a life like Adora had. Whatever had happened the night Glimmer had found her, Catra hadn’t survived it, “How did it happen? I was there, wasn’t I?”

So many things fell into place all at once. Something awful had happened to Catra here, and _that_ was why Adora had no memory of this house. Her mind had erased itself to cope with losing her best friend, chosen to lose everything rather than keep a single memory of the time she was there as Catra died. She needed to know it all now, to leave this final chapter of the life she had forgotten unread would only make the fire of curiosity burn harder inside.

“Come to the kitchen,” Catra said solemnly, and Adora felt something take her hand. It was not quite solid, more like a suggestion of another hand in hers, but it was firm enough to lead her forward towards the final missing memory.

She needed to ask no questions, she just needed to watch, and find answers in the events that were to unfold. Inside the kitchen, a pan of boiling oil bubbled away on the stove as the woman from the previous memory, now visibly older, chopped potatoes on the worktop alongside it. A vast window that dominated one side of the room looked out upon the final moments of an incredible sunset, the sky at the horizon an orangey-pink shade and a deep purple canopy hanging above.

Adora heard whispering behind her, and wheeled around to see her past self and Catra huddled together. They too were older than before, now about 15, which served only to confirm to Adora that this must have been the night that she ran. The night Catra took her final breath. She was nervous, terrified that what she was going to relive would simply cause a repeat of what happened to her – would she wake up in another unfamiliar bedroom after this, with another unfamiliar woman standing over her?

“We’ve got to do something,” past Catra said, a hand cupped beside her mouth so that the woman wouldn’t hear, “She’ll injure herself.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to her. But you need to go somewhere safe, okay? I don’t want her to hurt you again.”

Adora could see the fear on past Catra’s face, “Be careful, Adora.”

Past Adora nodded, kissing Catra’s forehead and allowing her arm to leave with the girl until they were too far apart to maintain the touch. She approached the older woman with what was clearly a fake confidence. It was obvious in the way her hands were shaking and the way her eyes were awash with fear. This girl was terrified, but her responsibility to protect herself and Catra was more important.

“Let me do that,” it was almost a question instead of an instruction. There was no hint of assertiveness in the way she spoke, no certainty that she would even be listened to. But Adora could feel her past self’s anxiety as though it was hers again, she could not stand up for herself and Catra in the way that she should have.

“I can do it,” the woman’s voice was again clearly intoxicated, her tone rising and falling without reason and far louder than it needed to be.

The teenager moved closer, “No, please. You’re not in any state to be holding a knife.”

“Go away!” both versions of Adora gasped as the woman exploded with anger, yelling and waving the blade around with worrying carelessness, “That’s the trouble with you, Adora! You _always_ think you know what’s best. Well I’m tired of it, tired of... Of you!”

“Please, don’t hurt me! Just let me chop the potatoes, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Oh shut up, Adora. I don’t want to hear your self-ri...rightshush rubbish. Go and play with that idiot friend of yours.”

Even the present-day Adora felt the twinge of anger that came from the insult. She could only remember a few specific moments with Catra, but she could remember how the girl made her feel – she remembered they were in love.

Past Adora’s eyes flashed with determination, “Don’t you ever call Catra that. She’s the best person I have ever met, and I love-”

“Be QUIET!” the woman roared, and Adora could see a glimmer of light reflecting off the knife in the split second she held it above her head. It came down towards her past self with incredible force, and she looked away, even though she knew she couldn’t have been the one who got hurt. As she did, a flash of brown hair darted through her vision, and the sound of Catra yelling echoed everywhere around her before her voice was quickly and horribly forced into a weak gasp.

Adora closed her eyes, not wanting to see the next part. She expected to hear awful sounds, to hear the screams of her younger self and the thud of a body on the floor, but only silence followed. She feared what she would see when she opened her eyes again, feared that this time she would be unable to forget the sight of Catra’s final moments and the guilt plastered over their guardian’s face at the realisation she had done something she could never undo.

“I... I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Adora,” she again heard Catra’s voice behind her, but this time, with it, a strange sense of certainty that she would be finally be revealed. There was no need to hide any more, no need to blur the lines between memory and the present now that Adora knew the truth.

She turned around, eyes still shut, before opening them to the burnt-out shell of a house that she had first found. Gone was the warm, well-lit home where she had seen her memories for the first time, replaced by the ruin of a building scarred by that night, four years ago. But the surroundings were insignificant to what – to _who –_ she saw: Catra.

She was not quite there, not properly; Adora could see the wall behind her through her body, and there was a faint ethereal glow that surrounded her. But it was definitely Catra, her untameable brown hair and unique heterochromic eyes instantly filled Adora with a warmth she hated that she had ever forgotten. Catra wasn’t the perfect memory, though, her image was not that of the happy times. The clothes she wore were rags, singed by fire, and it was impossible to miss the wound in the centre of her chest.

“Did it hurt?” Adora silently cursed herself for _that_ being the first question she asked.

Catra’s gaze fell as she began to remember her death, “It was really painful for a bit and then it... It wasn’t.”

“Sorry,” Adora mumbled. She wasn’t sure what to say – for years, ‘Catra’ had just been a word with no memory attached, and to suddenly discover that they were once so close and that she was dead was a lot to process in one afternoon, “About the question, and about what happened to you. I feel like it was my fault.”

“No. I don’t blame you at all.”

“I should have just left her alone, instead I just antagonised her and put her in a-”

Catra cut her off, “Adora, you couldn’t have known she would do that. I’ve had a long time to think about that night, and none of it was your fault. There is... There is one question I want to ask, though.”

Adora narrowed her eyebrows. What possible question could Catra, the only one of them who remembered _everything,_ have for _her._ She only knew what she’d been shown, and unless she was about to be asked about her life in the intervening years, she wouldn’t have an answer.

“When you were arguing with her, you said something before she attacked,” Catra folded an arm across her waist, a look of nervousness spreading over her face, “You said ‘I love’ but you never got to finish it. Were you... Were you going to say you loved me?”

“Yes,” Adora answered before Catra had even finished speaking. She may not have remembered the life they shared, nor the moments before and after Catra’s death, but she felt the emotions stronger than ever. Each scrap of memory, each fragment of Catra she held was accompanied by an unwavering, overwhelming sensation of love, and she didn’t need to second-guess her past self. She loved Catra and she knew that instantly.

Catra’s eyes flared, her face like the proverbial deer caught in headlights. She’d had nothing to do but analyse what she remembered of that night over and over, and though she’d been fairly certain that Adora was about to declare her love, she had never let herself believe it. If Adora loved her, she had told herself, she would have come back, and every day Catra was alone in the house seemed to prove that Adora didn’t love her.

But now she had come back, and the opportunity to say it back was a bittersweet pleasure, “I… I love you too.”

They both sensed it, felt how right it was to declare their love. It was as if the horrors of the previous years, Catra’s death, Adora’s memories and the times they had both spent trying to make sense of everything, no longer mattered. All they ever needed was each other, all that ever mattered was being together, and not even the boundary between life and death was going to stop that.

The gap between them closed, Adora’s steps on the creaking floorboards the only ones that made a sound, and forehead pressed against ethereal forehead. Catra had forgotten how the touch of another person’s body felt, how solid and real it was. She felt Adora’s lips seek out her own, and though it could be nothing more than a facsimile of a kiss, a vague idea of what could have been, she was more than happy to oblige. And the electricity of that shared moment, that instant of time where everything around them fell away, made her feel _alive._

“Adora...” Catra pulled away, phasing through the arm around her waist as a stark reminder of the difference between her, “There’s one more thing I have to show you. One more memory, and it’s... It’s what happened after.”

Adora took a deep breath and closed her eyes one more time, opening them to the memory of the room she had been in minutes before. Their guardian was static, her eyes wide in shock, as she looked to the floor where Catra lay, gasping in vain for breath. Adora’s past self was knelt beside her, desperately trying to use the tiny amount of medical knowledge she had to try and save the girl she loved.

“It’s okay, Catra, you’re okay. I’m here,” she pleaded, the blood spreading from Catra’s clothes to her own as she leaned across to try and make her more comfortable. Adora looked up at the woman, “Call an ambulance!”

“No.”

“Stop with this crap, just call an ambulance!” the past Adora repeated, finding a determination she’d never known before.

But her guardian was not going to be swayed by this new assertiveness in Adora’s voice. She lunged forward and wrestled the girl from Catra’s side, throwing her into the leg of the dining table, “STOP!”

“What are you doing!?” Adora watched her younger self scrabble back to her feet, feeling a memory of the pain in her own leg, “She’s going to die if we don’t get her help!”

She remembered the anger, the red mist that descended over her back then, and how nothing but Catra mattered to her. Not any sense of respect, nor being the good child she was supposed to be, just sheer, unrelenting anger. Adora saw it coursing through the younger version of her, erupting in an explosion of temper as she pushed the woman hard.

It was enough for to send her guardian off-balance, no doubt made easier by her drunken state, and crashing into the stove. The saucepan flew up, the majority of the hot oil falling back down onto the flame where it instantly ignited with incredible ferocity, covering the wall and ceiling in momentary flame. It took mere seconds for the fire to spread to the wooden shelving and tea towels hung on the wall– Adora was amazed at how rapidly it happened, how quickly a tranquil kitchen had become an inferno, and though she could not feel the heat, nor be harmed through the lens of memory, she still instinctively stepped back.

“Catra!” her younger self screamed, the name turning to a cough as her breath mixed with smoke, but she could see nothing but flames, nor hear her own voice over the roar of the fire. The heat was more than she could bear, and she realised her only option was to run, the ends of her clothes burning off as she tore out of the room. Tears streamed down her face at the prospect of leaving Catra, and the present day Adora began too to cry with regret. There was little she could have done, she knew that, but it didn’t stop the raw feeling of guilt; she had left Catra in that burning building while she fled, selfishly saving herself while the most important person in her world died.

“I told you I don’t blame you,” Catra whispered, almost as if she were able to read Adora’s thoughts, “It was too late for me anyway.”

“No… I shouldn’t have left you. You must hate me.”

The memory of the blaze enveloped every corner of the room, surrounding them both in illusionary fire, but both young women could only pay attention to each other. Catra could see the flames reflecting in Adora’s eyes, licks of intense orange dancing in a sea of ocean blue. She recalled the years past, when she often laughed to herself about the metaphorical fire in Adora’s eyes, and how she admired it, admired how she gave all of herself to whatever task she faced. It was something Catra herself could never hope to measure up to.

“I don’t hate you,” though the inferno raged loudly, even Catra’s quiet voice could be heard over it, as though she were stood right next to Adora, whispering into her ear, “Do you want to know what I was thinking when I… when it happened?”

“What?”

Catra forced a modest smile, though her expression and words were tinged with sorrow, “I thought about you. I thought about everything you had ever done for me, every time you stood up for me, every time you included me in what you were doing – even the fact that you had still tried to help me as I took my final breath. Adora, the one thought that came with me into death was that I loved you, and there hasn’t been a single point since that I have stopped. I always hoped you would come back, because I never got to tell you while I was alive, and now… now I’ve done that.”

“Why do you look sad? What’s wrong?”

“Adora…” she stared at the floor, her face dropping into a frown. This was the moment she had spent the last four years waiting for, praying to see Adora’s face again so she could tell her she loved her and finally be able to rest. She wanted it to last forever, just the two of them in this bubble of perfection, the way it always should have been. But it couldn’t happen, “I’m still here in this house because I would never find peace if I left without telling you how I felt. But now… now I’ve told you and It’s... it’s time for me to go.”

Adora ran towards her, attempting to grab hold of her arm but finding only air in its place, “No! Catra, you can’t! You can’t leave me now! I only just found you again...”

“I don’t have a choice, Adora,” she sniffled, ghostly tears running down her face that felt more real than the rest of her, “That’s just how this works.”

“Please, Catra, no!”

Catra’s image began to flicker, the outline of who she was starting to fade. She’d wondered for years how it would feel when it happened, whether it would hurt or not, or whether she would even know it was happening. It wasn’t painful, Catra was at least thankful for that, and she had only a sensation of contentment, of calm. She couldn’t exactly feel it happening, not like she was able to feel before; the parts of her fading ethereal form simply… _stopped being._

Her feet went first, and it spread upwards from there, the luminescence of her ghostly legs darkening until they ceased to exist, leaving her upper body floating in place. Catra knew she had mere seconds left in this plane of existence, but as the rest of her body diminished, she could only think how grateful she was that Adora was here with her this time, staying as she passed into the ether. She reached out a faint arm, weakly cradling Adora’s cheek in her hand until it, too, became nothing.

“Remember me, Adora.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that, I'll do more of these challenges in the future.
> 
> Yell at me in the comments, or find me on tumblr @lisshstuff


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